


Do-Si-Do

by heyginger



Category: Bandom
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyginger/pseuds/heyginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The round, bumpy, perforated oatmeal cookie top and bottom surrounds a peanut butter-flavored layer inside. AKA: Pete and Patrick help their daughter have fun, develop valuable life skills, and make the world a better place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do-Si-Do

Patrick picks Lottie up from school on Tuesday and it's later than usual, almost 4, because Tuesdays are Brownie days; when she comes racing out, she's in her brown jumper and her vest is hanging out of her Hello Kitty backpack. She's clutching a shiny pamphlet in her hands, and when she's all buckled in she turns a solemn face to Patrick.

"It's cookie time," she says.

Patrick says, "Already?" and she nods. He sighs and pushes his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Do we have to tell Dad?" Lottie asks, and Patrick looks down at his hands on the steering wheel. On the one hand, encouraging his daughter to keep things from Pete--from either of them--is...it's bad, he's pretty sure.

On the other hand, well. Pete is a nightmare about Girl Scout Cookies. He calls all their friends; he bullies and cajoles. Two years ago, he'd tried to convince everyone on the label to send Joe and Marie Thin Mints in lieu of wedding presents. The year before that, Lottie ended up crying when her troop got a formal reprimand from the Girl Scout Council because Pete was trying to sell cookies through Fall Out Boy's merch website.

Patrick bites his lip. "We won't tell him right away." Lottie pretends to lock her lips and throw away the key. Guilt makes him add, "Keeping things from your parents is not okay, though."

"Right." She nods firmly. "Unless you say so."

"No, no matter who tells you to do it. Just this one time, Lottie."

"Yes," she says, "just this one time. Because you said so."

Patrick sighs and puts the car in drive. On the way home, Lottie fiddles with her iPod interface in the dashboard ("I can do it myself, Daddy. I've been doing it since before I was four!") and then plays Cobra's cover of "Bananaphone" approximately 100 times (" _Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring_!"). Patrick spends the drive thinking about who he can help her call later, once Pete's safely at the studio. Grandparents are good for a dozen boxes together, probably, and Joe will buy at least five. Andy usually places a sizable order and then donates them to food drives, so that's another dozen. By the time they pull into the driveway he's got about fifty clandestine sales sketched out, and he takes the cookie order sheets and shoves them into the glove box.

His plan works really well right up until the red-headed girl from two blocks over knocks on their door a few Saturdays later. Patrick can't hear what she's saying from where he's sitting with his morning coffee, but when he sees that she's decked out in green, his stomach sinks. When Pete comes into the living room he's got his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Patrick," he says, and there's a question in his voice.

"Pete." Patrick looks back at the newspaper in his hand and pretends he's reading.

"Patrick, do you know what time it is?"

"It's eleven o'clock, Pete." He pulls out the comics section and tosses it on the coffee table in Pete's direction. "Saved that for you."

"It's cookie time, Patrick. But you knew that, didn't you? It's cookie time, and you kept it from me, and now you expect me to be placated by Dilbert?"

Patrick finally lowers the paper. "Don't do this," he says.

Pete glares, and his eyebrows are doing crazy things all over his face. Patrick looks down at his lap where the knee of his pajama pants is fraying. He should mow the lawn before he showers; it always makes him sweaty. When he looks back up, Pete is still glaring but now his shoulders are hitched up. It's a classic Pete-signal that hurt is nosing past the anger, and Patrick is thinking that maybe his plan wasn't such a good idea. There are acceptable things to have your kids keep from your spouse. Surprise parties, Christmas gifts, and...Patrick can't think of anything else right now. Shit.

"Lottie," Pete calls. There's a thud and the scramble of feet and paws racing down the hall. When she skids into the room, Pete asks, "Are you ready to sell some cookies?"

Lottie shoots a betrayed look in Patrick's direction. He shrugs his shoulders. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.

That night when Patrick crawls into bed, he moves a stack of papers out of the way with his knee and leans in to kiss Pete's bare shoulder. Pete smiles, and it's not the smile that can sell a million girl scout cookies, it's the smile Patrick used to see across Formica diner tables and through the glass in recording studios. It makes Patrick smile back, always has, and Patrick has to kiss Pete's shoulder again. He leaves his mouth there, head bent down. "I'm sorry."

Pete shrugs and Patrick's head bobs along with him. "Okay," Pete says, sliding his hand around the nape of Patrick's neck. He's silent for a while, just petting Patrick's neck while Patrick breathes damp against his skin. Then Pete turns and kisses the crown of Patrick's head. "Hey," Pete says, voice suddenly playful, "Hey--you wanna make it up to me?" He pushes a little bit, not hard enough to dislodge Patrick's head, but enough to indicate in which direction he wants it to move. "Because I've got some ideas about that."

Patrick laughs and looks up to meet Pete's leer with one of his own. "We can probably work something out, yeah." He kneels up to take off his T-shirt, but before he removes his glasses he gives Pete one last serious look. "No making her cry, Pete."

Pete sets the papers in his hand on the bedside table and slides down until he's lying on his side facing Patrick. "I promise," he says, reaching up and sketching an "X" on his chest. "I won't upset her at all."

Patrick leans over for a kiss and reaches out to switch off the bedside lamp at the same time.

The next day, Pete leaves on business--he's flying out to Butte, Montana to check out a band he might sign. And, really, Patrick should have ascertained the location of the cookie order form before Pete left, or he should have checked his suitcases or something. He didn't. It isn't until he's getting ready to take Lottie to her violin lesson with Mrs. Sandoval, who loves Samoas, that they realize the form is missing.

He calls Pete after he drops Lottie off.

"You can't make cookies part of their contract," he says.

"Well, hello, dearest. I miss you, too."

"I mean it, Pete. Do not blackmail No Refill."

"My flight was fine; we landed safe. Thanks for asking," Pete sounds overly cheerful, which always means he has no intention of listening to a word Patrick's saying.

"You promised you wouldn't make her cry!" It's kind of a low blow, but Patrick's reaching the end of his rope about the damn cookies.

"I'm not gonna make her cry, Patrick--shit," Pete goes from sounding cheerful to petulant in 2 seconds flat. "And I'm not _blackmailing_ anyone. I just asked! I'm allowed to ask!"

"It's not just asking! You're famous, you have a label. You show up, act all interested in their band, talk about all the things you're gonna do for them. Then you bring up this one little favor they can do for you--it's _cookie blackmail_ , Pete. Don't play dumb." Pete's always been the businessman--Patrick knows he knows exactly what he's doing.

Pete cracks. "Alright, fine! So I encouraged them to buy some damn cookies! They're just girl scout cookies, Patrick! I could be asking for blowjobs!"

Patrick hangs up on him.

When Pete's out of town, when either of them are, they call every night before Lottie's bedtime. That night Patrick's doing the dishes when he hears the phone ring. _Blowjobs_ , he thinks, rolling his eyes as he drops some chicken on the floor for Pear, who's dancing around his feet, tail wagging. He scrapes the rest of the plate into the garbage disposal and turns to set it in the dishwasher. When he looks up, Lottie's standing in the doorway with her My Little Pony purse in one hand and Sally the elephant and Patrick's cell in the other.

"Dad wants to talk to you," she says, holding out the phone. "And me and Sally are going shopping for pajamas at your closet."

Patrick's more annoyed than angry, really, so he wipes his hands on a dishtowel and takes the phone.

"So they played me some of their new stuff and it's got a kind of Joan Jett meets Yo La Tenga vibe to it," Pete says. "I sent you some files. Tell me what you think." Pete sounds genuinely excited and Patrick's curiosity gets the best of him, so he closes the dishwasher and heads to his office.

The music is in his inbox waiting to be downloaded and discussed--Patrick thinks the melodies are a little ticky-tocky, but the potential's definitely there--and 20 minutes pass before Pete says, "I didn't solicit any blowjobs today. In case you were wondering."

"Pete..." Patrick says, and then sighs. "I never thought for a second that you did. That you would. Okay?"

"And yet you hung up on me."

"And yet I hung up on you." Patrick laughs and then adds, "Asshole."

Pete laughs, too--as long as there's no throwing involved, he thinks it's cute when Patrick swears at him. "Why am I an asshole?"

"Because it's pretty assholish to threaten to get blow--" Patrick looks up just in time to see Lottie standing in the doorway. She's wearing Pete's old "Who the Fuck Is Pete Wentz" T-shirt over her pajama pants, and Patrick kind of chokes and has just enough presence of mind to finish, "--holes. From other people."

Pete cracks up. "Lottie walked in?"

"Yeah," Patrick says, watching her curl up in the old armchair across from his desk. "You should see what she's wearing. We might be the worst parents ever."

"Give her a kiss goodnight for me?" It's the same thing Pete asks every night he's not at home, and Patrick pushes himself up from his chair.

"Of course," he says, walking over to her. "Hey, Miss Charlotte, ready for your goodnight kiss from dad?" Lottie makes a squinched up yucky face but she clambers eagerly to her knees so he can reach her better. He holds the phone up to her ear at the same time he gives her a big, loud kiss on the cheek and then a smaller one on her forehead for good measure. He can hear Pete talking to her. She nods and then leans up to kiss Patrick on the cheek, just as loudly as he'd kissed her.

"Thank you," he says, surprised.

"It's your goodnight kiss from Dad," Lottie says, handing the phone back to Patrick. He takes it and she wanders off.

"My goodnight kiss, huh?" Patrick asks.

"Yeah." Pete's voice is low. "I miss you." It's the other thing Pete says every night he's not home.

"I'm right here," Patrick says, just like always. Then, "I'd better go make sure she brushes her teeth."

"Okay. Oh, and Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

"The only blowhole I'm interested in is yours."


End file.
